


Thunder

by RandomSlasher (Randomslasher)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Romance, mood piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 01:29:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17193926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randomslasher/pseuds/RandomSlasher
Summary: Experimenting with my prose here and trying for a kind of mood piece. I don’t even stick to one POV. I can’t tell you how much that pained me, but you only live once, and all that, right?





	Thunder

The rain patters against the window in soft steady beats, and in the distance, thunder rumbles gently. It’s the kind of storm that promises to last most of the day: slow, lazy, gentle, and lulling. 

In the mindscape, four bodies lie entangled across an impossibly large mattress, conjured for just this purpose. At first glance, it’s difficult to tell where one person ends and the other begins; limbs are sprawled and entwined, sheets and blankets in an impossible tangle that reveals a snatch of calf here, an elbow there, a hand resting on a pajama-clad hip. 

No one stirs at first. The four are so still they might be mistaken for lifeless, except that over the sound of the rain, there is the soft sound of breathing, and the gentle, relaxed rise-and-fall of chests is just visible in the dim early morning light. 

On the far right, the first sign of waking: the largest of them draws a sharper breath, and his eyes flutter open slowly. He lifts his head, surveying the scene before him, and smiles. He reaches out and attempts to smooth the sheets that are such a hopeless mess, but his success is limited; all he manages to do is cover the exposed pale ankle and foot of the figure right beside him. That figure stirs slightly, enough to stretch and then burrow in closer to the first, a purple-sleeved arm winding around the broad chest and the lips parted on a sigh as he snuggles into the first figure’s neck. 

Things settle for a time after that, until the figure closest to the window unwinds himself from the tangle and turns his head to glance at the clock. It registers just after nine am, and the muted light from the rainy day makes him squint. Or perhaps it is just the need for glasses; he reaches for them, on the bedside table, and shoves them up his nose, before peering across the remaining tangle of bodies. He smiles, and leans in to press a kiss to the temple of the fourth figure--the only one thus far who has not stirred. A soft sigh is his response, and a hand disentangles itself from the back of a shirt to reach up and squeeze the fingers that have come to rest on his shoulder. 

“Hmmn,” he murmurs, eliciting a chuckle from the one wearing the glasses. 

“Go back to sleep, Logan-dearest,” he murmurs, bending to press another kiss to the temple. 

He is thwarted when a swift turn of the head makes his kiss land on a closed eye instead, and the resulting grumpy grumble makes him laugh again. A realignment, and lips press to lips, soft and sleepy and morning breath be damned. 

When the kiss breaks, Logan frowns, and says, “Pat...?” 

“I’ll be back soon,” whispers Patton, brushing Logan’s hair aside. “Sleep now.” 

Logan doesn’t seem inclined to argue; he burrows into the warmth of Virgil’s back, wrapping his arms around his waist. Virgil sleepily disentangles one hand that’s been fisted in Roman’s t-shirt and laces those fingers with Logan’s instead. 

Patton watches them sleep, the three of them, his heart full to bursting. His eyes trail over them slowly, lingeringly, taking in every soft edge in the dim rainy light, every entwined limb, every place where they are pressed in so tight they look like they want to melt into one another. When he realizes someone is watching him, he starts slightly, then smiles more broadly. 

Roman smiles back, giving him a slight nod, careful not to disturb Virgil. 

“Good morning,” he murmurs.

Patton climbs out of bed and walks around to the other side, leaning down to press a kiss to Roman’s cheek, then his mouth. 

“Good morning,” he returns, reaching over to stroke Virgil’s cheek softly. Virgil turns into the touch like a contented cat, and Patton chuckles softly. 

“Good morning, Virgil,” he murmurs, knowing their anxious fourth is awake. 

Virgil sighs softly, one eye opening demurely and peering up at Patton from beneath Roman’s chin. But it’s crinkled at the edges, and Patton knows Virgil is smiling. 

“I’m going to make breakfast,” he says softly. Then, when he sees the disappointment rising in Virgil’s eyes, he adds, “then I’m bringing it back up here, along with some DVDs. This is a stay-in-bed kind of day, I think.” 

Virgil’s smile widens, and he burrows back into Roman’s neck with a mumble that sounds like “pancakes.” Roman chuckles and kisses Virgil’s hair. 

“Chocolate chip, I think,” he agrees. Then, “Do you want me to come help?” 

At the groan of protest Virgil makes, Patton laughs. “I think you’ve been overruled,” he says. “But no, I can manage. I’ll be back before you know it, okay?” 

“Hurry,” Virgil mumbles, but when Patton meets his eyes, he knows it’s not hunger that makes Virgil say it. 

When he returns, some time later, with pancakes and juice and bacon and scrambled eggs, they all shift just enough to sit up and eat. But afterward, the empty tray and plates and silverware are whisked away by a wave of Roman’s hand, and Patton starts to get up to put on a movie. 

He is stopped by a hand encircling his wrist, and instead, Logan tugs him back into bed. The bodies in the center part part to make way for him, and when he settles back down, his arms are abruptly full of a very clingy Virgil, and a warm, solid Logan is pressed against his back, lips at the nape of his neck. Roman’s hand finds his and their fingers entwine warmly. 

They don’t speak. They don’t need to. The susurrus of steady rain and wind in the trees lulls them, and soon they are still again, save for the occasional press of lips to a bare patch of skin, the gentle squeeze of fingers, or the sound of a soft, contented sigh.


End file.
